


Cover Me (In Roses)

by Ally_Futuras



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: AU, After chapter 16, Birthday Present to Myself, M/M, What if Scenario, guilty pleasure, i love them, its my gift, not major spoiler, slight spoiler?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ally_Futuras/pseuds/Ally_Futuras
Summary: They lived in a world far from anyone else’s. The world of Assassin’s. A world stained in the blood of chaos.
Kudos: 1





	Cover Me (In Roses)

**Author's Note:**

> As said, this is my little moment to indulge. A short little AU within my story, with slight spoiler, so it won't *happen* but... well but it's my birthday and I want this so hehe

There’s nothing but comfortable silence between the two as they find delight in each other’s company.

Basilio sits under the shade of a tree, his head tilted back in hopes to stop the blood oozing from his nose. If it weren’t already crooked and broken, he would have been worried. Instead, he is calm, relishing in the fresh afternoon, near his dearest companion.

Companion? An interesting word, he thinks. There was something else. There was always something else there. It was almost sickening in the sweetest of ways.

_Though, maybe not in this life._

His head begins to ache further as he watches Tazim, curiously. The other boy is sprawled across the grass, besides Basilio’s legs. He keeps his eyes closed, relaxed with an arm over his face. His robes are stained and dried with blood across his chest, which causes Basilio to crack a smile.

There was never such a thing as ‘too far’ with them, was there?

Tazim turns his head to the side, spitting blood from his mouth, “You hit hard.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” he sighs, “Not as long as you are near.”

They lived in a world far from anyone else’s. The world of Assassin’s. A world stained in the blood of chaos. Yet before him, delighted in the warm glow of the evening, lay Tazim in silence. Together, there was nothing more beautiful than life itself.

In another life, they may have been thieves together, beggars, fishermen, or fathers. In a different world, Basilio may have been a scholar, and Tazim a Templar. Often times, they humor themselves with such scenarios. Tazim a lonely man on the street, and Basilio the confused foreigner.

It never ceased from making them laugh each and every time.

Though it no longer mattered to either of them. Whatever life they lived in, they agreed on one single thing. It would never matter what life they were stuck with, like the stars above, they would forever live together. This life or the next, however many years between them, they would find one another in each one.

But what of life being lost?

The flowers from the masters’ garden have long since been tended to, though even in their untidy state, they were beautiful. Basilio can’t help but wonder, what would it be like to be as beautiful as a rose garden. Dangerous, lethal if not properly handled, but painfully stunning. Gorgeous in the most righteous of ways.

“When I die,” Basilio begins to say, a ghostly smile across his dried lips, “cover me in roses.”

_To be beautiful at last, while in rest._

Tazim glances in his direction, his face serene and his tone suddenly serious, “No.”

“Why not?”

_Because I would die as well._

There are many things Tazim could have told him in that moment. He could have stood, yelled, and spat blood down on Basilio as he rained down painful anger due to such a cheerless topic. How could he ever imagine a world without Basilio at his side?

Impossible.

Reckless, and so _wrong._

Instead, he closes his eyes, tasting the blood in his mouth, with his tone suddenly light, “When you die, I will be at your side.”

Tazim lets his hands wander, the grass tickling his fingertips. He leans his head back, using Basilio’s legs as a pillow. Their robes are stained and ruined, only growing further soiled by laying on the ground. Underneath, an array of hidden bruises scattered across their bodies. He reaches farther, feeling the end of Basilio’s robes under his palm, a loose string along the edge of it.

Wiping any dirt from his face and hands, Basilio lets out a soft laugh. He tries to speak strictly, but it’s impossible, and the humor is evident in his voice, “How long will you be around?”

Near him, Tazim stirs. He groans, turning his body and cracking his aching bones. His eyes turn in his direction, tired and established both from life and their latest sparring match together. One hand still grasps Basilio’s robes, and the other is tucked under his head.

He’s thinking, Basilio knows. His lips always parted, just slightly, and his eyes often seemed a little off, curiously so, when Tazim was thinking over his words before speaking. As though he were calculating the response he may get.

He looked so much older suddenly. No longer the skinny boy Basilio had found on his way to Masyaf. No longer the boy filled with the desire to destroy, just days before. The anger having been visibly present across his face when he fought against others was something Basilio wished to never witness again.

When he appeared that night, broken like a discarded flower, that same anger consumed Basilio’s own soul. It was like a drug. The crude sense of authority had possessed him in the worst of ways. Having always been treated so defectively, as though he carried the plague. Being given power over someone, a heavy _advantage,_ it was a new sensation.

It felt _good_.

Even so, his newly found fixation needed to come to an end. Basilio had been molded differently in his youth, he would not dishonor those who taught him.

_Be good. Be better._

A part of him felt bad for having attacked Tazim when he appeared, seeming like a lost pup in search of its mother. Though, no matter how humble, he needed to be taught as well.

Still comfortably atop Basilio’s legs, right below his knees, Tazim wiped at his bloodied nose again, wincing when he touched it roughly. He’s turned, gazing upward, but still visibly in deep thought. A _boy_ , Basilio thought, how could such a boy ever come to harm anyone?

They were nothing _but_ boys, stuck in the in-between, Tazim had told him once. The thought brings a smile across Basilio’s face. He always knew just how to answer Basilio’s odd question. Boys, he thinks, they had yet to lose their lives, as they had yet to properly find them.

So much of what Tazim spoke was often true. Who was Basilio to doubt him?

With the setting sun warming his back, Basilio fiddles with his sleeves and the strings having come loose from a previous fight. His legs have gone numb due to Tazim’s weight on them, but he doesn’t care. Normally kept tidy, Basilio reaches over and tugs at Tazim’s sloppy hair. His friend doesn’t seem to mind, as he crudely attempts to braid a short strand.

Although marked by blood and sweat, Tazim looked so harmless. Innocent, and Basilio wished to see just how far his innocent soul truly went. What more did he hide from their world?

They were nothing alike, and yet somehow, they were exactly the same.

Neither one of them would have it any other way. It was _right._

It was the way they should have been. The way things _could_ have been.

Tazim sighs heavily, his eyes are closed, and he seems at peace with the moment, no matter his disheveled look. He unconsciously leans into Basilio’s touch, feeling the familiar sensation of fingers combing through his hair. He’s reminded of his mother, always running her hands through his hair, humming softly to him as a child.

He’d never felt so comfortable with anyone else. It was the way things were between them. Together, they created their own world.

A world with no rules, no orders to keep them in check. One of which held no war or unfairness. A world where they were nothing but boys together, laughing and smiling, and everything was _alright._

When Basilio suddenly stops, having created a knotty excuse for a braid and taken it apart once more, Tazim is dismayed. He reaches over, grabbing Basilio’s hand and setting it on his head once again, though this time he does not let go. A light chuckle escapes Basilio as he mutters something then proceeds to brush through strands with the fingers of his free hand.

Tazim thumbs at the boys’ palm, roughened from the fights all through the week, “How long would you like me to stay?”

Above him, Basilio shrugs. They were _there_ currently. The _other world._ A place where they were no one but themselves, _together._ A boyish smile creeps across his lips, stained with long forgotten blood, “ _Always_.”

Maybe there was nothing for them in this life. Maybe they were nothing but a pair of foolish Assassins, in search of a future that promised little. A future where they are nothing but brothers in arms. In a different life, they would meet again under altered circumstances. They may have led different lives, crooked or guiltless, what difference did it make?

If they could exist in a world where a mysterious artifact may kill, then surely there could exist countless others where two boys could love.

Though, none of that mattered. They were in this life _now,_ and they would cherish it for all it’s worth.

_“Always,”_ Tazim repeats, satisfied with the way the word felt in his mouth. He gave Basilio’s hand a squeeze, “I can do that.”


End file.
